Chapter 7 - The Don's Fury
Inside his Manhattan headquarters, Gabriel was signing a land acquisition deal when his encrypted phone buzzed violently. It was an automated alarm from the GPS tracker embedded inside the emerald necklace he had given Emma—a tracker he had never removed.
The red dot on his tablet was moving rapidly away from the legal district, heading straight toward Pier 42—the heart of Valenti territory.
At the same second, his chief security officer burst into the office, his face pale as chalk. "Boss! Tommy was found unconscious in the estate garage! Someone hijacked Miss Emma’s escort vehicle!"
Gabriel stood up slowly. The air in the executive office became suffocatingly heavy. He didn't yell. He didn't smash his glass desk. The silence that fell over him was far more terrifying than any roar of anger. It was the absolute composure of a man who had decided to become a monster.
He opened the walk-in armory behind his desk, pulling out two custom silver-plated pistols, a tactical vest, and a heavy combat knife.
"Call the captains," Gabriel ordered, his voice a low, terrifying whisper that vibrated through the floorboards. "Activate every squad in New York, New Jersey, and Connecticut. Block every bridge, every tunnel, every harbor exit."
"Boss... that's a full-scale mafia war," the security chief stammered. "The Commission will intervene—"
"I don't care about the Commission," Gabriel declared, racking the slide of his pistol with a lethal clack. "Marco Valenti took the woman who gave my daughter her life back. Tonight, I tear his world down to the dust."
Down at Pier 42, cold rain slammed against the rusted corrugated metal of Warehouse 9.
Emma opened her eyes, groaning as a blinding headache throbbed behind her temples. She was tied securely to a heavy wooden chair in the center of a concrete floor. Rain leaked through the ceiling, dripping onto her dark hair.
Standing ten feet away was Marco Valenti, holding a glass of scotch, surrounded by fifteen heavily armed mercenaries.
"Ah, the queen awakes," Marco sneered, walking over and slapping her across the face.
The force of the blow cut her lip, the warm taste of blood filling her mouth. But Emma didn't cry out. She wiped the blood from her chin with her shoulder, glaring up at him with unyielding hatred.
"You're a coward, Valenti," Emma said, her voice strong and unwavering. "You couldn't face Gabriel in front of the families, so you hide in a dark warehouse like a rat."
May you like
Marco’s face twisted in rage. He grabbed her by the jaw, digging his fingers into her cheeks. "Shut your mouth! You're nothing! A fat, worthless servant girl that Gabriel used to humiliate my sister! By midnight, your precious don will be dead, and you'll be at the bottom of the river!"
Suddenly, the heavy steel doors of the warehouse blew inward in a massive, fiery explosion.
